


you're my king and i'm your lionheart

by bodhirookes



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ficlet Collection, M/M, One Shot Collection, no beta we die like men, they will probs not be connected, this is just a place for my warm-ups, will include individual tags per fic!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:27:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29379189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bodhirookes/pseuds/bodhirookes
Summary: “Look,” Shane says abruptly, rocking up onto the balls of his feet. Ryan is standing on a stepladder in front of him, desperately trying to find the last box of coconut water that’s supposedly and allegedly located in the walk-in cooler. Shane’s pointing vaguely at the corner that he has been inspecting for the past minute and a half, in a way that does not lead Ryan to the coconut water’s whereabouts. “It’s right fucking there.”Ryan, because he loves and trusts Shane, takes another look and still comes up empty. “All I see up here is whipped cream and some limes. There’s no coconut water in sight. I swear to sweet baby Jesus that there is no coconut water in this goddamn walk-in, Shane Madej.”“I think there’s something to be said about using ‘sweet baby Jesus’ and ‘goddamn’ in the same sentence, but to each their own."~ From the first fic in this collection of one-shot prompts/warm-up ficlets to be! All ficlets will include their own tags/descriptions!
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 37
Kudos: 73
Collections: Shyan Shipping Society Daily Prompts





	1. accidental first kiss

**Author's Note:**

> hello friends!! i promise i'm working on some longer shyan fics rn but in the shyan shipping society discord server we are doing daily prompts meant to be >1k (obviously i already failed this one single "rule" but we're going to ignore that) for some writing practice or warm-ups before getting into other fics, and i decided i want to challenge myself to fulfill as many of these prompts as possible!! and to fucking write some fics that are actually short and sweet, which i have never been able to accomplish. i'm not sure if i'll be able to complete all of them, but i want to try my best and see if writing small ficlets completely outside of the realm of my other fics will help me to feel inspired to work on those other ones so i don't get stuck as often, yknow that kind of thing. i do hope you all enjoy these little one-shots i'll be posting here!! these are going to be very hastily edited and probably not that great/have some grammar errors but i want these to be fun and silly without the pressure of meeting my personal perfection standards so they'll probably be sloppy and dorky but fun to write which is the whole point lmfao!! thank you to virge for this first prompt (and the next one i'll be writing bc it's a Very Good One), i had fun writing these two being disasters as always lmfao 
> 
> the first prompt was: _what was shane and ryan’s first kiss like? who initiated it? where’d it take place? was there anyone else there or was it just them?_ i decided to make this a coffee shop au where their first kiss is accidental and obnoxious!! also i didn't mean to continue to make stepladders ryan's mortal enemies but here we are
> 
> title of fic as a whole comes from king and lionheart by of monsters and men because i've been dying to use this as a fic title for years but have never written something that would fit so what time like the present. all mistakes are my own as stated previously, will be putting minimal effort into these fjsafijsjjasjsa

“It’s right there.” 

“Right where?” 

“Right there, dude!” 

“I literally do not know where the fuck you are pointing to.” 

Below him, Shane sighs like Ryan is being obtuse on purpose, is trying his very best to ruin Shane’s day by being a dumbass. Which—

“Look,” Shane says abruptly, rocking up onto the balls of his feet. Ryan is standing on a stepladder in front of him, desperately trying to find the last box of coconut water that’s supposedly and allegedly located in the walk-in cooler. Shane’s pointing vaguely at the corner that he has been inspecting for the past minute and a half, in a way that does not lead Ryan to the coconut water’s whereabouts. “It’s right fucking there.” 

Ryan, because he loves and trusts Shane, takes another look and still comes up empty. “All I see up here is whipped cream and some limes. There’s no coconut water in sight. I swear to sweet baby Jesus that there is no coconut water in this goddamn walk-in, Shane Madej.” 

“I think there’s something to be said about using ‘sweet baby Jesus’ and ‘goddamn’ in the same sentence, but to each their own. Let me see—” 

Shane puts a steadying hand on Ryan’s hip and leans up farther, so that his temple is level with Ryan’s shoulder. Through the tingling warmth of Shane’s palm against his side, and the dizzying thought that he could probably wrap both hands around Ryan’s waist and still touch his fingers together in the middle, Ryan wonders why Shane doesn’t just trade places with him and look for the coconut water himself. Since he’s so utterly convinced of its existence. 

“Try looking _behind_ the whipped cream, wise guy,” Shane tells him, jerking Ryan from his very NSFW thoughts in their place of employment. 

Ryan, once more trusting Shane’s advice and judgement, does as he’s told. “Fine, I’ll look again. But if there’s no coconut water and you can’t find any by climbing up here either, you owe me the biggest iced coffee money can buy.” 

He shoves aside one of the gargantuan boxes of whipped cream on the top shelf, and then another, until he comes upon a tiny, itty bitty, microscopic box behind all of the rest of them. On the front of the box is a label, and on that label, written in bold letters, is **COCONUT WATER, EXP 8/21.**

“Well. Ain’t that a son of a bitch.” 

Shane sounds horridly smug when he asks: “Did you find it?” 

“Yes, I found it, stop sounding so pleased with yourself.” Ryan scoops the box into his arms and prepares to climb down, still with one of Shane’s enormous hands burning through his _Lava Java_ t-shirt. “And please make sure I don’t fall to my death—I don’t want to come back as a ghost and haunt this place for eternity. I’ve already spent most of my youth in this building.” 

“I promise I won’t let you fall, drama queen. Unless you decide to miss a step like you missed that box of coconut water right in front of your face.” 

“Right in front of my face? The fact that you could see the coconut water through that wall of whipped creamed boxes leads me to believe _you_ actually put it there and then set up this humiliating experience for a big ol’ laugh. There’s no fucking way you saw that just now.” 

“Okay, but you think you’ll come back as a ghost when you die, so your opinion regarding one’s perception of reality and validity is kind of missing the mark, B-Man.” 

“I’m gonna make sure we both die in here—” Ryan starts to say, and then, because he is too busy thinking of all the ways to beat Shane up with the coconut water, and Shane is too busy laughing at Ryan’s lack of situational awareness, he ends up missing a step on the ladder and falls to his death. 

Well, not quite to his death. What really ends up happening is that Ryan stumbles, blurts out: “Oh, shit!” and crumples against Shane’s chest. This results in Shane responding with a heartfelt: “Fuck!” and instinctively wrapping his arms around Ryan’s flailing body, and then they go down in a heap on the floor of the walk-in cooler. The whole ordeal makes him wish for the sweet release of death, anyways. 

Especially when, upon their clumsy, somewhat painful landing, the momentum yanks Ryan forward and causes him to knock their noses together, and then their mouths. 

The sting of their fall comes first, sending hot sparks of pain up Ryan’s knees, palms, and across his face where their noses bonked into each other. The sting of embarrassment comes next, knowing that not only was Shane right about the coconut water, after all, but also right about Ryan needing some guidance to get off of the stepladder. And the sting of horror follows last, like a vicious punch to the gut, when he realizes that he’s kissing his best friend, someone he’s been in love with for most of his life, and his best friend is maybe, kinda kissing him back. Or at least isn’t pulling away. 

_Pull away!_ Ryan’s brain screams, and he does so with a soft _pop_ sound, something he hears over the thrashing of his heart and the loud hum of the cooler. Shane is staring at him with wide, wide eyes, and Ryan thinks he must be mirroring his bewildered expression perfectly, in synch even in the most dire of circumstances. Shane stares at him with a wild mixture of concern, shock, and something akin to amazement. When he takes a sudden, unsteady breath, it pulls Ryan from his frozen stupor, and he begins to stutter out about a million apologizes at once. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, big guy—I really didn’t think I was going to fall off and crush you like a jackass—are you okay? Did I hurt you at all? I can go get the first aid kit from the office—”

“Hey, hey,” Shane soothes, setting a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “Take it easy, Ry. I’m okay, you didn’t hurt me at all. I should’ve been holding onto you tighter.” 

Ryan thinks about the hot brand of Shane’s fingers through his shirt, and the effortless strength with which he held onto Ryan’s hip when he was pointing out the coconut water, and feels a blush burn across his entire face.

“That’s good,” he says delicately, and then says, because there’s no way around it, “I’m sorry about the—um. The kiss. That was my bad.” 

“It was kinda bad,” Shane replies, looking at Ryan’s mouth with renewed interest. He seems much less upset by this turn of events than a normal person might be. “But we could always make it better, if you’re not opposed to the idea.” 

Ryan’s heart drops, and then soars. “You want to give it another try?” 

“Yeah, definitely.” 

“On the floor of the walk-in cooler? At work? Where anyone could find us?” 

“They’ve found us in much more compromising positions before,” Shane points out, and when he thinks about it, he discovers that Shane is absolutely correct. And is maybe into Ryan too, which is not how he thought this adventure of finding their last stash of coconut water would go. 

Ryan settles himself into a more comfortable position on Shane’s lap and smiles winningly. “Okay, commence Take Two.”

Shane agrees: “The first of many takes,” before leaning in and kissing him again, this time with less pain and mortal fear and with more awareness and affection. Ryan’s eyes flutter shut as Shane kisses him sweetly, the hand previously touching his hip fitting around Ryan’s cheek, the smell of Shane’s cologne and coffee beans filling his lungs to the brim. They’ve been in here long enough that Ryan’s skin is erupting with goosebumps, and he’s pretty sure they’ve both got syrup on their aprons that is now being smeared across their skin, but it’s the best kiss he’s ever had, one of the best moments of his life up until now, and not even the obnoxious hum of the fans or the unforgiving press of the tiled floor against his knees can ruin it for him. 

What could ruin it for him, though, is the sound of the walk-in’s door opening and Steven’s voice floating through it, both bored and harried. 

“Hey, did you guys find that coconut water yet or not—” 

They pull away from each other to blink up at Steven, who, in turn, blinks down at them. He takes in their _compromising position,_ takes in Ryan’s fingers in Shane’s wild hair and Shane’s arms wrapped around Ryan’s waist, takes in the slightly dented box of coconut water laying a few feet away from them, and then sighs deeply. 

“Thanks for finding it,” he tells them sarcastically, coming inside just far enough to grab the coconut water. “You are both worthy of keeping your employment at this here establishment.” 

“I fell?” Ryan tries, hooking a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the stepladder. “And Shane caught me?” 

Steven blinks again. “With his tongue?” 

“Okay, okay,” Shane surrenders, shifting to dump Ryan off of his lap. “We’re coming. Sorry about the delay.” 

Steven takes a step away from them, so that he’s half out of the door again. “Nah, go ahead and stay in here for another minute. Looks like you two need to cool off.” 

And with that, the door to the walk-in slams shut and they’re left to their own devices once more. 

When Ryan turns back to Shane, feeling flustered and overwhelmingly happy, he tells him: “That sounded like an invitation to me.” 

“No it did not,” Shane argues, but he’s laughing, one of those big laughs that fills a room and all of the occupants inside of it, and he looks so beautiful and kissable that Ryan has no choice but to follow through. 

He kisses Shane again, a kiss that is deep and sweet and leads to more kisses, enough to take them through the minute Steven generously offered up and then another one after that.

At some point, Shane tries to say: “We’re going to get fired,” but its effect is lost when he immediately initiates another kiss afterwards. Ryan replies: “Time and reality don’t exist in the walk-in cooler,” and says it with so much conviction that Shane has no follow-up argument to respond with. They kiss each other until Andrew kicks the door in and starts screaming hysterically, no doubt from Steven tattling on them. Being brained with the manager clipboard and suspended from the walk-in for three working days is worth the moony expression Shane wears the rest of their shift, and the way he crowds Ryan against the inside of his car to kiss him thoroughly after they’ve clocked out for the night. 


	2. werewolf au + hurt/comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> werewolf au with hurt/comfort as a result of an injury, mentions of blood, fighting/killing, and healing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oop i'm already getting off track with these daily prompts but that's okay!!!!! i'm here for a good time not a long time lmfao!! the second prompt is: _what is your favorite fanfic trope? maybe it’s something you haven’t seen in fanfic in a while but you want to make a resurgence!_ and for this one i cheated a little and did werewolf au + hurt/comfort because i love supernatural creature aus and werewolves are my absolute fave and i feel like there will never be enough in this fandom (or any fandom hehe) and also hurt/comfort is one of my favvorrritessss to read and write so i slipped that one in here as well!! this is again a little longer than 1k but i couldn't help myself (virge if ur reading pls don't banish me). i hope you all enjoy bc i had a blast writing this one!!!! also yes i did base the pack of alphas off of that teen wolf arc, yes i am tragically attracted to deucalion, mind your business!

When he finally comes to, the first thing that Shane hears is the rapid, uneven beat of Ryan’s heart.

He knows it’s Ryan because no one else’s heartbeat manages to both soothe and distress him at the same time; no one else’s heartbeat manages to both sync up to and beat completely out of tune with his own, like a record that skips every other song. Shane listens to the maddening, beautiful sound of it as he slowly wakes up, like it’s a steadily blinking lighthouse in the distance, like it’s Ryan calling out his name over and over again. As he returns fully to consciousness, other parts of his surroundings start to creep in: the faint hum of people talking; a dull, throbbing ache in his back and his ribs; the smell of his own blood, intermingled with the smell of one of Steven’s potent salves; and underneath that, Ryan’s familiar hot cinnamon scent. 

It takes him a while to remember what happened and where he is, until the remaining pieces fall into place. It was just supposed to be a routine perimeter walk with Jen, Jake, and Andrew—the only thing that made it out of the ordinary was the uptick in patrols, due to warnings from neighboring packs about an unknown pack traveling close to all of theirs. There were rumors that the strange pack was made entirely of alphas, and that they were coming in search of other bloodthirsty alphas to add to their ranks, so all of the packs in the area decided to increase their patrols and watch out for anything unusual. 

They’d been scouting the very northern edge of their territory, and everything had been perfectly fine up until it wasn’t. Shane had heard the alpha before he saw or smelled him, and turned just in time to watch an enormous tawny wolf go right for Jake’s throat. Jen’s fast reflexes kept Jake from being bitten, and Shane’s protective instincts sent him headfirst into battle. 

He doesn’t remember too much after that, just that he went wild with rage at the thought of some alpha hurting Jake and dealt a fatal amount of damage before taking nearly the same in return. He remembers going feral, remembers taking a severe blow to the solar plexus, remembers the stab of Andrew’s fear and the smell of Jake’s tears, and then everything after that is soupy and dark before this moment. 

Shane releases a quiet groan and opens his eyes, though they’re still heavy with fatigue, to see that he’s in their bedroom. He turns his head to the side just as Ryan appears from wherever he was sitting, face like the full moon and all the stars around it and Shane’s dream come true. 

“Hey, baby,” Ryan whispers, gently pushing a hand through Shane’s hair. He sounds perfectly calm and collected, but Shane can still hear his heart thrashing in his chest, can smell the sharp tang of rage and terror underneath the cinnamon. “How are you feeling?” 

Shane smiles helplessly up at him. “Like I got clobbered by some douchey alpha. How are you feeling?” 

“That’s not funny,” Ryan replies, but a rush of relief honeys his words. And so does his other hand when it comes up to hold Shane’s scruffy cheek. “I’m doing a whole lot better now that you’re awake, wiseass.” 

“How long have I been out for?” 

“Just a few hours. You dealt more damage than you took, thank fuck for those alphas. They’re lucky I don’t go and finish them all off myself.” 

A sudden, horrible thought grips him, and he struggles to try and sit up. “Where’s Jake? Is he okay? I swear, if one of those pieces of shit laid a single finger on him—” 

Ryan pushes his hand through Shane’s hair again, a steadying, grounding motion. “He’s fine, Shane. Hardly a scratch on him or the other two. You made fucking sure of that.” 

“Goddamn right I did,” Shane proclaims, settling back into a more comfortable position. Even though he’s been sleeping it off, and Steven’s salve is stitching everything back together behind the scenes, he still feels like he got put through a meat grinder. Like his body and his bones are all one giant bruise. “They better not come back or I’ll finish what I started. What  _ they _ started. The only thing that saved them from that fate is one of them catching me off guard. I was obviously a little upset, and not so much in the right state of mind.” 

The way that Ryan looks down at him at this statement, like Shane is his full moon and the stars all around it and his dream come true, heals him in ways that sleep and Steven Lim’s salves will never be able to. Shane’s body might feel like one giant bruise, but the ache Ryan’s luminous eyes and gentle touch provide is the kind you feel when someone hugs you tight enough to leave behind an imprint of themselves, a tangible weight for you to carry around afterwards. 

“He’s been waiting to see you,” Ryan tells him, smoothing a thumb over Shane’s temple bone. “Steven only let him get a glimpse when he was done fixing you up, and then he made Jake go wait with everyone else since he was threatening to attach himself to your side and never move again.”

Shane snorts, and then winces when it pulls at his mending ribs. “Ow. I love that kid so much. I’m surprised you’re not attaching yourself to  _ his _ side and refusing to move.” 

“I thought about it, but he’s fine. I got my meltdown done and over with pretty quickly, and then I moved on. I wanted to be here with you, since you were so out of it. I thought…” 

Ryan trails off, a thousand different emotions flitting across his eyes and the tip of his tongue. Shane knows them all well, has spent years and years learning everything there is to know about Ryan and his emotional gauge and what he feels first when he’s scared, and what he feels last. He waits patiently for the anger, nausea, and panic to pass, and when it settles on exhaustion, on the burn-out that inevitably happens when Ryan spends multiple hours worrying over something to the point of making himself sick, he settles further into his mountain of pillows. 

“Come here,” Shane requests, curling a hand around Ryan’s elbow. He can feel himself being pulled out with the tide, can feel his body guiding him back down into the lull of a much-needed and healing sleep. 

“But Jake—” 

“He’s fine, he can wait just a little bit longer. Annie and Curly will force him to calm down if he gets any wild ideas.” 

When Shane pulls on him again, Ryan follows, follows him down until he’s carefully curled around his side and tucked under his chin. When they’re folded together, Ryan tucks his face into Shane’s neck and takes a deep, shuddering breath. And then he takes another, one that does nothing to hide the way he’s trembling now that he’s back in Shane’s arms, now that Shane is awake and Ryan can see for himself that he’s going to live. 

“I’m okay,” Shane says into his ear, and listens as Ryan chokes back a sob. “I’m fine, sweetheart. And after some more sleep, I’ll be right as rain.” 

Ryan lets out a surprised laugh, one that makes Shane’s blood sing. “‘Right as rain.’ Maybe when you wake up again you can join us in the 21st century, Poppy.” 

He tries to think of something obnoxious to reply with, wants to keep up this stream of banter more than anything, wants to keep hearing Ryan laugh and feel it sink down to where his muscles are stitching themselves back together, but sleep pulls on him again, harder than before. All Shane has the energy to do is slur out: “As long as you’re here, I’ll wake up feeling brand new,” before he slips back into a deep, deep sleep. On the way out, he feels Ryan laugh again, hears him whisper: “What a fucking charmer. I love you desperately, Shane Madej,” and then feels and hears nothing else for a very long time. 


	3. valentine's day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> first valentine's day together!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to get this one posted today as well since it's valentine's day and i actually can't believe i completed this so quickly, go me!!! this prompt was _it's shane and ryan's first valentine's day together! what are their plans for the day? are they nervous? who's taking the lead on the date ideas?_ and this is just a sweet and simple introduction to their date night!!! hope yall enjoy!!!!!!

“Did you do something embarrassing, like buy me flowers?” 

“Well,” Shane says, suddenly unsure of himself. He hesitates, before presenting Ryan with a bouquet filled to the brim with orchids, tiger lilies, cordelias, and a single red rose in the very center. “It’s customary, is it not?” 

Ryan’s face goes from teasing to amazed in the blink of an eye. “Jesus, that’s a lot of flowers.” 

“I can, uh, return them? If you don’t like flowers?” 

Shane barely finishes the sentence before Ryan is stepping out of his front door (they’re doing this in view of the street, not even inside Ryan’s house where Shane can be humiliated in peace) and grabbing the arrangement from him, pulling it protectively to his chest. 

“Of course I want them,” Ryan gasps. “I was just teasing, big guy. These are beautiful. You didn’t have to do all this for little ol’ me.” 

Every single inch of Shane softens, fills up with sunlight and a yearning love at Ryan’s words, at his expression of delight. There’s a smile overtaking Ryan’s face, that smile of his that displays all of his teeth and makes his face shine so brightly that it hurts to look directly at sometimes. It’s the smile that Shane knows he’ll spend the rest of his life working to earn. 

“Of course I did. It’s our first Valentine’s Day together—can’t start everything off by flaking on the sweeping romantic gestures.” When Ryan smells the bouquet, still looking so blown away by the fact that Shane went out and bought him flowers, he adds: “And you deserve them. You deserve sweeping romantic gestures and all the flowers that money can buy.” 

Ryan turns that dazzled gaze from the flowers onto Shane, who feels unworthy of it at the best of times, but longs for it all the same. 

“Shane,” he starts, and then holds the flowers at his side so that he can pull Shane to his chest instead. “Come here, loser.” 

On any other day, Shane would struggle against him, whip out the:  _ “I’m the loser? You’re the one who said ‘I love you’ first, so I’m pretty sure that means you’re the biggest loser!”  _ and make Ryan work for the kiss he’s obviously gunning for. But today, after fumbling through picking up the bouquet from the florist and second guessing himself all the way over here, and watching Ryan light up at the sight of it after all of his unnecessary worrying, Shane is really not on his game. He feels his face go warm as Ryan guides him closer, flustered and the most unsmooth he’s probably ever been, and lets Ryan pull him down into a kiss. His relief and his overwhelming adoration cause him to kiss Ryan a little desperately, harder than what is probably called for in this situation, but instead of teasing him, Ryan just giggles against his mouth and kisses Shane back with enthusiasm. 

“Sorry,” Shane breathes when they separate. “I just, um. Have a really big crush on you. It’s embarrassing, really, how much time I could spend looking at and kissing you.” 

Ryan’s eyes are like two gleaming jewels when he grins up at Shane again. “Well, luckily, I have a big crush on you as well, so it all works out.” 

“That is music to my fucking ears, Mr. Bergara.” 

“How about you come all the way inside and give me a second to stick these in some water, huh?” 

Shane does as he’s told and steps fully into the doorway, waiting patiently while Ryan hunts down something vaguely vase-shaped to stick the bouquet into. It ends up in one of his obscenely large cocktail glasses, one with a bright purple base, typically used for fancy frozen margaritas and other miscellaneous alcoholic drinks. It should look terrible, but it just looks endearingly dorky—exactly like the man it belongs to.

“I’ll get a real vase tomorrow,” Ryan promises, setting them in the center of his coffee table. 

“I think they’re great just the way they are,” Shane replies, smiling at the finished product. “Very you.” 

Ryan looks down at the flowers, eyebrows raised. “What? Frat boy chic?” 

“I was going for innovative and unique, but go off.” 

“Did you just say ‘go off’?” Ryan steps away from the coffee table and towards Shane, mouth pulled into another wide, gorgeous grin. “What did I say about using Twitter lingo, old man?” 

Shane pretends to think. “Use it wisely?” 

“Never use it again.” When they’re back to being crowded into each other’s space, Ryan wraps his arms around Shane’s sides and leans up to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Shane. The flowers are really beautiful. I’m flattered by the amount of time I suspect you put into picking them out for me.” 

“God, you know me down to my hardcode,” Shane sighs, but it’s amused, bursting with affection. He wraps his arms around Ryan’s shoulders and squeezes. “I’m glad you like them. They’re the first of many, so you may actually want to invest in a vase.”

“Hey Look Ma, I Made It.” Ryan pulls him down into a lingering kiss, and when it ends, cheekily asks: “Are you sure you want to go out to dinner tonight? We could always just throw a frozen pizza into the oven and—stay in.” 

Shane snorts. “You drive a hard bargain, but no. We can keep our hands to ourselves for our first Valentine’s Day dinner out. Just to say we did it.” 

“Fine, fine, we’ll keep our reservation. But we better head out now before I convince you to change your mind.” 

“I agree, because it would, admittedly, take almost no effort at all for you to do so.” 

Ryan gives him another quick kiss, and says: “I love you. Thank you for being so wonderful.” 

And Shane just has to kiss him one more time, has to kiss him and say: “I love you, too. I’d give you the world if I thought it would be enough to express how much you mean to me.” 

“Careful,” Ryan says, voice hitching, “we might end up in Vegas tonight if you keep talking like that.” 

Shane thinks about the ring he bought right after their first date, after years and years of being in love with Ryan and after getting his first real taste of being with him, the ring he bought without hesitation and has hidden in an old pair of socks in his closet. He does his best not to give its existence away when he agrees: “No Vegas. We’re going to do that the right way, too.” 


	4. collab with popkin16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> collab with popkin16, a direct "sequel" to her fic "[flitting eyes, fast beating hearts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29456220/chapters/72355212?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_394752690)"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woooooo i'm real nervous about this one yall lmfao today's prompt is: _who's your favorite author in the server? what's your favorite fic they've written? whatever/whoever it is, write a fic in their style/in one of their universes! what would they say? how would their fic continue?_ and i knew right away i wanted to write something in one of pop's universes but i waffled a little on which one exactly until i read "[flitting eyes, fast beating hearts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29456220/chapters/72355212?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_394752690)" a bit ago and screamed. i would recommend reading the og fic first so that this little drabble makes sense AND because it's a new all-time fave shyan fic of mine. it's so fucking good gang, you will d*e when you read it. it's the perfect balance of rivals to lovers, spooky times, and then sexy times. it's sooooooooo goooooooood. but if you'd like to read this now before reading pop's fic, the fic involves ryan and shane being rival believer/skeptic series makers who are accidentally scheduled to tour a prison at the same time and they end up getting lost inside the prison together and spend the rest of the night locked in a room together and,,,, things happen,,,, some scary,,,, some sexy,,, and it's my dream come true. please please please go read pop's fic whether it's before or after this one because it's amazing and will knock your socks off!!!! but it think this does make sense even without reading that, but the magic will be lost lmao pop i hope u enjoy this i tried my best fshdhsffhshsh

Ryan is, to say the least, Very Nervous about posting his first collab episode with Shane. 

There are a few things factoring into his trepidation, including but not limited to: a lack of interest in them collaborating with each other, Ryan’s fans attacking Shane and his fans and vice versa, suspicions of them faking the whole “accidental run-in” situation, and therefore cheapening the experiences had on location, and maybe most importantly, a strain forming in their already fragile relationship. There are a hundred and one things that could go wrong during this endeavor, a hundred and one things that could result in them losing some of their credibility, or the respect of their fans, or the respect they’ve found in each other. 

And yet, Ryan can hardly wait to put their surprise creation out into the world and see what happens afterward. Can hardly wait for everyone to see the end result of one of the scariest and most rewarding nights of his life and everything that occurred during that time. He wonders if, after posting each part of their shared visit to North Banston Prison Complex, their fans will come together and request they keep doing collabs like they were planning on doing. He also wonders (hopes) if this collab will help them to understand each other better, and help their fans to understand that Ryan and Shane, instead of being two separate bodies of water that are constantly crashing together, may have been two halves of the same winding river all along. 

When the Friday following their trip to North Banston rolls around, Ryan uploads the first half of their collab to his channel and unveils it for the world to see at 6 P.M. on the dot. Shane calls him at 6:03, and the sight of his name on Ryan’s phone sends a fresh wave of anxious butterflies through his stomach. 

“Hey,” he says lamely, but Shane is already talking. 

“Woooooo! We did it, Bergmeister! The greatest video ever created is live and viewable to all!” 

“‘The greatest video ever’? Madej, it’s been live for three—make that four—minutes. I think it’s a little early to be making that bold of a statement.”

Shane pauses. “Are you saying it’s _not_ the best video you’ve ever made in your natural born life?” 

Ryan pauses too. “Okay, so you might have a point.” 

This earns him a laugh, one without any of Shane’s usual sarcasm or condescension. It’s real and warm and beautiful, and it makes Ryan smile through his nerves. 

“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever admitted to me being right about something. I’m touched. Tickled, even.” 

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. I’m not known for my ability or willingness to compromise.” 

“Now _that_ is something I’m absolutely shocked to learn about you, Ryan.” Ryan hears Shane take a deep breath and tries to picture where he is and what he’s doing right now. Is he at the office, cleaning up his half of their collab? Is he tucked away in some coffee shop, watching the official, posted video on Ryan’s channel to contribute to the view count? Is he at home, dressed down in sweats and draped dashingly across his couch? He finds himself desperately longing to be wherever Shane is, and then scowls at his dramatics. “Especially since we both watched the same footage and you still managed to find a reason to blame it on ghouls. This whole time I thought ‘compromise’ was your middle name.” 

Ryan says his two favorite words to Shane Madej and his snark. “Fuck off.” 

Shane laughs again. And then, in a more serious tone of voice, tells Ryan: “It looks phenomenal. You had a huge hand in editing out all of the dumb shit we did, and the end product is—I can see why you have so many subscribers.” 

The butterflies surge, create an effect that results in him grinning like a dumbass. “Aw—thanks, big guy. I think that’s the first time you’ve ever complimented one of my videos before. I’m touched. Tickled, even.” 

“They’re all great,” Shane insists, tone softening further. “Even though their contents are complete hogwash, the videos themselves are wonderfully put together.”

Ryan admits: “Yours too, I’ve seen them all,” and the punched-out noise Shane makes is worth the embarrassment Ryan experiences upon admitting he’s watched all of Shane’s content. The surprise behind it, and the fact that Shane is showing him that kind of vulnerability, makes Ryan blurt out: “Hey, do you want to go get dinner with me? We can celebrate the union of believers and skeptics over some Korean barbeque. If you like that sort of thing.” 

There’s another slight pause on Shane’s end, where Ryan thinks maybe he’d like aliens to come down and steal him away, and then Shane replies, “Ryan, there is literally nothing on fake-God’s green Earth I would rather do than sit down at grill that is cooking bulgogi and pork belly and have a conversation with you.” 

“You are quite the romantic, sir.” Ryan, in a horrible turn of events, realizes that he is unable to wipe the stupid smile off of his face. “Want to meet me at Dae Jang Keum in half an hour?”

“It’s a date,” Shane agrees, and Ryan repeats: “It’s a date,” while watching himself shine a flashlight right into Shane’s gorgeous brown eyes on camera. And though he has had very few positive experiences with ghosts during his time as a paranormal investigator, Ryan finds himself sending a quick thank you to whatever caused them to crawl under a desk together at North Banston, and to whatever made him take a second look at Shane Madej and see all of the good underneath all of the bullshit. To whatever made Shane take a second look at him and see all of the good underneath all of the spitfire. To whatever led them both to this exhilarating and terrifying new beginning, and what may lead them both to a long and happy ending. 


	5. pirates of the caribbean au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pirates of the caribbean au, warnings for sword fighting, battle, killing, blood, slight violence/gore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ya this is def over the 1k word limit but i had to go hard for this one okay lmao don't bonk me virge. today's prompt is: _other than watcher, what's your favorite fandom? what's a fandom you've always wanted to see a crossover with, or a universe you think the boys would be cool in?_ and i have been obsessed with pirates my whole life, pirates of the caribbean for about a year now, and have always dreamed about writing the boys in my own pirate au so! i decided to give it a whirl and decided for this prompt that i would write a shyan version of the wedding scene in at world's end aka the most romantic moment in cinematic history. i think this is the fastest i've ever written something before in my life because i was desperate to see shyan pirates lmao!! i hope yall enjoy this!!! and no ryan does not immediately get stabbed and become the captain of the dutchman after this, that was nonsense and i'm still bitter about it.

They’re several minutes deep into their battle against the Flying Dutchman when Ryan suddenly turns to him and yells: “Shane!  _ Shane! _ Will you marry me?” over all of the hubbub. 

Shane, despite being locked in a heavy battle with one of the slimy, grotesque crewmembers of the Dutchman, finds the energy to be alarmed. “I don’t think now is the best time!” 

As if to prove his point, another of the Dutchman crewmembers hurdles himself at Shane, intending to tag-team it with the one he’s already fighting. He releases some choice words and takes care of them both with a few flicks of the wrist, abruptly finding himself concentrating on something besides the fight. There’s a brief pause in the action, long enough of a pause that Shane turns to look at Ryan where he’s locked in his own one-on-one fight. Even through the grey haze of the thunderstorm, and the bloodbath occurring all around them, Shane can’t help but think that Ryan is the most beautiful person he’s ever laid eyes upon. He’s been to the world’s end and back, and the only person he would go to the world’s end again for is Ryan. The only person he wants to spend the rest of his life with is the one proposing to him in the middle of their most chaotic, deadly fight to date. 

Ryan defeats his opponent and turns to Shane with his sword still poised to kill. There is not a single shard of hesitation on his face when he says: “Now may be the  _ only _ time! I love you, and I want to marry you. I’ve made my choice—what’s yours?” 

Shane hesitates for only a second, but in that second, two more crewmembers come barrelling towards them. He’s slow to drag his eyes away from Ryan, afraid of what will happen if he does and never gets the chance to say something back. But he does, turns to meet one of Davy Jones’ leeches head-on and fights him to the death. Behind him, he hears Ryan grunting and swearing as he battles, can hear him even over the screech of steel clashing against steel, over the roar of the dying and the wounded, over the howling wind and deafening downpour of rain. And in that moment, after the hesitation and the spike of adrenaline, Shane knows what his answer is going to be, what he would’ve said no matter what. 

They kill the crewmembers and turn back around, hands going for each other’s faces. Shane leans down and shouts, over the clamor and the shrieks, “Yes, I’ll marry you!” 

Ryan grins wildly, and then turns to the helm of the Black Pearl, where their captain is fighting off three Dutchman crewmembers simultaneously. 

“Steven! Marry us!” 

Steven manages a small glance in their direction before he’s back to focusing on his complicated brawl. He does some fancy swordwork that cuts down two of the crewmember at once, and then takes care of the third with a few deadly jabs to the gut and chest. As another crewmember heads towards him, Steven gives Ryan a pointed, scathing look.

“I’m a little busy at the moment!” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Shane sees someone running towards him and lets go of Ryan to deal with it. Ryan joins him, a stone pillar at Shane’s side, an extension of his arm and his sword, and they cut down the crewmember together in perfect unison. Shane grasps his forearm, and Ryan yells: “Now, Steven!” 

“Fine, if you insist!” Steven takes care of yet another Dutchman crewmate and turns to face them fully, equal parts exasperated and amused. “Dearly beloved, we be gathered here today—” 

A crewmember swings towards Steven on a wayward rope, and he cuts the man down without missing a beat, sending him to his death in the churning sea. 

“—to join these insufferable scallywags in holy matrimony!”

He’s interrupted by more crewmembers, so Ryan takes this opportunity to turn to Shane and ask: 

“Shane Madej, do you take me to be your husband? In sickness and in health?” 

They’re pulled apart by another pair from the Flying Dutchman, and Shane spins away from Ryan to deal with it, feeling a new fire behind his movements. He always gets a certain rush during combat, always gets a little high on the frenzy of staying alive and the euphoria of winning a hard-fought battle. But this—this is a different beast entirely. This is a prize to earn before earning victory at the end of this war. This is a fight to keep his husband-to-be safe and take his time with him when the war is over. 

This is Shane fighting for the most glorious and bountiful treasure the sea has ever possessed. This is Shane fighting for something he’ll never find again if he lets it go or loses it. 

He plunges his sword into the back of his opponent and goes to Ryan, rain and the slimy blood every Dutchman crewmember possesses trickling down his hands. Ryan is right there with him, finishing off his with both eyes on Shane and his gory sword. 

“I do!” Shane yells, for Ryan and every single pirate around them to hear. “Do you, Ryan Bergara, take me to be your husband? In sickness and health, with health being the less likely?” 

Ryan tips his head back and laughs, is still laughing when he has to step forward and take care of a pirate advancing on them. Another goes for Ryan’s turned back, and Shane cuts him down viciously, fire and love burning through him like a lit musket. When the crewmen are dead, Shane steps to Ryan, who spins and meets Shane’s sword with his own, ready to fight anything and anyone. When he sees who it is, he pushes against their swords, so that Shane can see all the stars in his eyes and the red of his mouth, and declares: “I do!” 

Up at the helm, Steven is swinging his sword and cutting down anyone who gets within a foot of him. He tries to say it a few times, manages to get out: “As captain, I now pronounce you—I now pronounce you husband and husband—” before the melee overtakes him. He tries again, after Ryan and Shane have both slain a few more pirates themselves, starts to say: “You may—you may kiss—” before he gives up and screams:  _ “Just fucking kiss!” _ and throws himself fully into battle. 

Shane’s face splits open around a grin at these words, and he cuts down two Dutchman crewmembers with little effort, like the fire in his veins is pouring out of the end of his sword. He sees movement at his side and turns to fight, only to meet Ryan’s sword with his own once more, a proxy kiss if there was ever one perfectly crafted for the two of them. Ryan maneuvers their swords so that they’re pointing to the floorboards of the Pearl, and then reaches up and tangles his other hand in Shane’s hair to yank him into a hot, wet kiss. 

The pandemonium of battle and the crashing of the sea fades as Shane kisses his husband fervently, holds him tight enough that it must hurt underneath all of the adrenaline. There’s rain pooling between their lips, and the air is thick with the stench of blood and brine and spilled rum, and this war is far from over, but it’s the best moment of Shane’s life. It’s the best kiss he’s ever had, the greatest treasure he’s ever been given, a treasure he would sail to the world’s end over and over again to find. 

It ends far sooner than he’d like, with a snarling member of the Flying Dutchman rushing at them with a sword in each hand, but Shane feels like he could fight Davy Jones and Calypso and the kraken all at the same time, feels like he could fight God if he had to, and knows the crewmate will be nothing. When he separates from Ryan, his husband, the love of his life, his sun at the end of the world, Shane makes sure to tell him: “I love you, too,” before throwing himself back into the din. 


	6. demon!shane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> demon!shane, mentions of torture, whipping, violence, blood, death, murder, homophobia in a religious context

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a min since i did a daily prompt but i'm feeling good about this one so i hope that makes up for it lmfao!! today's prompt was: _demon shane. we all know and love him. what does he do? what's his backstory? how's ryan find out he's a demon? what's hell like?_ annnddddd i decided to use this as my opportunity to write the beginning of my shane!pov sequel to "stay the night with the sinners" because i've been meaning to do that. it's not necessary to have read that prior to this but it will add some context, especially since there's no real shyan in this ficlet, only the vaguest reference with the last line. if you want a quick summary, stnwts features angel!ryan and demon!shane having to sit on trial for angel!steven and demon!andrew, who have fled heaven and hell to be together, and it's very angsty and they're mortal enemies, blah blah blah. this ficlet is supposed to be the beginning of shane's backstory and why he is so aloof and terrible to ryan in stnwts until he isn't. so i hope you enjoy this and are excited for the full fic which i promise i'm going to start chipping away at now that i've gotten this part out!! :P

When Shane Madej wakes up in Hell for the first time, he knows that, just as nearly every other demon that came before him knew, there was never a chance of him ending up anywhere else. 

There is no moment of horrible shock, and there is no moment of outrage. He never once thinks about fighting against his Fate, or demanding that he be re-evaluated to see if he truly belongs in Heaven. Shane always knew that he would end up in Hell when he died, and when he wakes up there, after going to sleep with a knife being pushed through his ribs, he simply gets up and goes to work doing the same to others. 

Most of the demons start as grunts, as punching bags and target practice for the older, seasoned demons who’ve moved rank. Shane only has to endure this particular type of torture for a few years before his boss upgrades him to the chopping block, thanks to his “impressive inability to feel a single fucking thing.” Shane does not scream or beg for his life when he is on the chopping block—he lies down and takes the torture because he knows he deserves it and welcomes it. He lies down and takes it because the torture he experienced when he was alive will always bite him more than the teeth of some Level 3’s blade, will always burn more than the Hellfire they make him writhe around in for hours and hours at a time.

And most of the demons who become Greaters have to chip away at it for centuries, if not an entire millennia. Shane becomes a Greater before his first century is even halfway over; the promotion is hinted at when he manages to persuade one of the lone villagers from his life Before to sell his soul. It officially takes place when Shane finally tracks down the reverend who ran his village and murders him in front of his new villagers, and then does it again when the good reverend wakes up in Hell afterwards. 

Shane’s mentor (if one could call him that) asks him about it on their first official day together, while they’re traveling to a microscopic town in Ireland to conduct some business. 

“So, how did you end up getting promoted so quickly?” Andrew Ilnyckyj looks more like a farmer than a Greater demon, in Shane’s humble opinion, but he keeps the thought to himself. “Your reputation precedes you, but I like to hear it directly from the source.” 

This makes Shane snort. “You mean you like to be the one holding all the cards.” 

“I’m not Marchbank’s right-hand man for nothing. I like to be accurately and consistently informed of current happenings.” 

“Well, it all started with a boy.” 

“Doesn’t it always?” Andrew sighs, his frown sarcastic, but his eyes oddly sincere. 

Shane looks up at the stars, at the million pinpricks of light that he was never destined to touch or be scorched by. He traces the shape of Cassiopeia as he tells his story, one he’s hoping he’ll eventually forget the finer details of the way most Greater demons do. If he gets to pray for anything, it’ll be to keep his cruelty without having to keep what it was born from. 

“It all started with a boy,” Shane starts again, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets to hide how they shake. “And I loved him very much. I loved him with every single inch of my heart, mind, and soul, in the way you’re supposed to only love God. And we tried to hide it, we tried everything we could think of to be with each other without anyone suspecting a thing, but I’m sure you already guessed how that worked out. It was his mother who found out and told the reverend of our village, and they, of course, had to make an example of us both.” 

Andrew sounds carefully bored when he asks, “What did they do to you?” 

“They made us kneel in the middle of the main square and whipped us until our backs were dripping with blood and we were delirious with pain.” 

“And that’s how you ended up here? For being with him?” 

“No,” Shane says, turning his eyes to the road ahead of them. “I ended up here because I slaughtered them. I waited until my back was healed enough that I could swing my arms again, and then I killed almost every single person in that village that stood by and watched as two boys were whipped and beaten within an inch of their lives. Only a few escaped, and I almost got away with it, almost got to be with my love, but that Goddamned reverend had a knife hiding in his bed that I didn’t know about. When I found him, he put the knife between my ribs while hugging me close and whispered: ‘God will forgive me for this, and the Devil will never let you forget.’” 

Andrew says nothing else, but Shane feels compelled to finish his story, even though it’s agony to do so. 

“I managed to stumble outside and find him, the boy I lost myself for. I got to kiss him one more time before I died and my brother escaped into the night with him. They’re both up in Heaven, as far as I can tell, but the reverend didn’t get so lucky after it was all said and done.” 

“I heard you killed him Up Top and then came back to be the first one to welcome him to Hell.” 

“That, at least, you heard right.” Despite the horror of his story, Shane finds himself smiling at the memory of the reverend’s ghastly face. “Every terrible, wretched thing I did to my village was worth it the moment I got to tear the reverend’s throat out and then got to do it again and again until the boss called me away for a mission. And do you know what I said when I finally found him again?” 

“What’s that?” 

Shane briefly closes his eyes, bringing the only memory he never wants to forget to the forefront of his mind. “I cornered him up against the wooden cross he always had standing in the chapel, and I let him get a good look at my face, at the boy he killed and twisted, and then leaned in real close and said: ‘Your God doesn’t get to decide your Fate, as he has not claimed you as one of His own. The Devil has not forgotten your crimes, and neither have I.’” 

When he turns to Andrew to gauge his reaction, he finds a flattering amount of admiration spread across his mentor’s handsome face. “It certainly makes sense now.” 

“Oh? Does my reputation still precede me?” 

“Surely,” Andrew agrees, and then adds: “But your truth is going to make you into one of the Greats every other demon in Hell fears and aspires to become in equal measures.”

“That’s the plan,” Shane says, instead of:  _ I will never be brought to my knees by anyone or anything ever again.  _


	7. time travel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> time travel "au" into the future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am uploading these wildly out of order from when they're being given for the server but idc!!!!! we love being chaotic babey!!!!!!! the prompt i'm posting for today is: _shane and ryan time-travel! how does it happen? where do they go? is it the future or the past? how are they gonna get back?_ and i decided to post the beginning of a fic i'm hoping to continue and finish someday, so sorry for the light cliffhanger like the last prompt hehe if this gets a good reaction i'll eventually continue it lol ♡♡♡♡ i actually started this one close to two years ago and then never ended up finishing, so it was just good luck that our prompt daddy chose this prompt bc it made me dust the fic off and get re-inspired to write it. so i hope you all enjoy!!! also yes this is 300 words over the 1k word goal, virge that's what you get for harassing me in public *pretend this is your emote*

When Ryan wakes up, it’s to sunlight pressing against his eyes and a pair of arms shifting around his sides, so he’s unconcerned. He hears Shane’s muffled sigh, feels him tuck his face back in between Ryan’s shoulders, and decides to try and drift back off to sleep for a little while longer. 

He drifts in and out of sleep as the morning progresses, pieces of dreams starting and then stopping, noises of the L.A. traffic sometimes pulling him back towards the surface, Shane a still, heavy weight behind him. Ryan either finds himself vividly aware of the feeling of their warm skin pressed together or vaguely aware of it, another piece of his dream or an added sensation with the sunlight streaming in through the curtains. 

Ryan doesn’t notice that anything is wrong until he’s almost fully awake and playing with Shane’s fingers where they’re resting against his stomach. He hears Shane sigh again, and then hum, which means that he’s also pretty much awake. 

He smiles when Shane brushes a soft kiss to his neck, tangling their hands together fully. 

“What time is it, Ry?” 

Ryan squints an eye open to check the clock. He thinks, for just a split second, that something about the room looks slightly off, but is quick to blame it on the sunlight partially blinding him. 

“It’s almost 9,” Ryan says softly. “Where are you in a hurry to be, big guy? It’s Sunday.” 

Shane laughs. “We have to be on set by 10:30, remember?” 

Ryan’s brain glitches again, like there’s something out of place but he can’t tell what it is. His smile is replaced by a frown, and he tries to remember what they could have possibly agreed to do for Buzzfeed on a weekend day. 

“I actually don’t remember, dude. Are you sure _you’re_ remembering right?” 

“Oh, not this again—we’re _both_ old, Bergara. You can’t always put the blame on me just because I’m a little older than your ancient ass.” 

Ryan can’t help but giggle. “Christ, you’re so dramatic. You might be old, but I ain’t. Midwestern winters have made you feel older than you actually are, baby.” 

“I think you’re just trying to kid yourself. Both out of being old and forgetting about our schedule today.” 

Ryan hears the scratch in Shane’s voice when he says this, and the way his laughter sounds a little deeper than usual, and groans. 

“Shane, are you sick? You sound like you just crawled your way out of Hell, with your voice all like that.” 

“Like what?” Shane asks, voice still raspy and amused. 

Ryan grouches: “‘Like what,’ like you’re going to be doped up on NyQuil in about six hours, that’s what—” 

When he finally turns around and gets a good look at his boyfriend, all the words in his mouth go up in flames. Shane still has his eyes closed, is still blissfully unaware of what’s going on, but Ryan feels like all the hiccups in his brain are stumbling over each other to catch up. 

For lack of a better term, Shane looks _old,_ something Ryan can see even without his glasses on _._ There are deep laugh lines around his eyes and mouth, his hair is messy and shot with grey, and his normally well-kept facial hair is also shot with grey and ridiculously scruffy. Ryan would be screaming right now if he could breathe. 

Shane is clearly waiting for him to continue his ramble, right hand dragging up and down Ryan’s side in a very loving, lazy manner. “I think you’re the one who’s sick, buddy. You sound nasally as shit. Just for your attitude, when you’re dying on set later, _I_ will not be the one bringing you soup.” 

Ryan watches his mouth curve around the words, and the fact that this part of Shane is still familiar, hasn’t been affected by whatever the fuck is going on, makes Ryan unfreeze a little. 

He reaches out to grip onto his shoulder, and chokes out one word: “Shane.” 

“What?” Shane laughs, and his smile makes Ryan’s stomach ache. “I’m just kidding, sweetheart—of course I’ll bring you some soup.” 

Ryan says it again, _“Shane.”_ and then Shane opens his eyes. 

There’s a moment where the two of them just look at each other, two pairs of familiar eyes staring across this strange space between them, and neither of them moves. Shane looks so different and exactly the same, with an easy grin frozen on his face and his beautiful amber eyes surrounded by crow’s feet. Ryan doesn’t know whether to be endeared or horrified. 

And then Shane’s face melts into an expression that Ryan guesses matches his own: somewhere in the ballpark of grotesque shock. 

“What the fuck,” Shane whispers, and then he lurches up. 

Ryan watches as Shane scrambles around on a side table for his glasses, and turns to do the same with an almost out-of-body sensation. He finds a pair of slim, black glasses waiting on what seems to be his designated side table and shoves them on, relieved to find that they’re only somewhat off from his normal prescription. When he turns back to Shane, Ryan gets to see the man he loves in all of his familiar, unfamiliar glory, and it nearly makes him sob. 

“What the _fuck,”_ Shane swears again. His hand flutters up towards Ryan’s face, like he wants to touch it but doesn’t know if he’s allowed. Ryan doesn’t tell him no, hardly remembers to inhale and exhale, and Shane eventually settles a feather-light hand on Ryan’s cheek. “How—” 

They stare at each other for another long, suffocating moment, Shane’s eyes flitting around Ryan’s face like he can’t pick a spot to marvel at first. Ryan looks only at his eyes because, despite all of the lines and the sunspots next to them, Shane’s eyes look like they always have: sleepy and steady. 

He only reanimates when Shane looks like he’s going to start crying. Ryan watches Shane watch him, and then watches as his sleepy, steady eyes begin to fill with tears. 

“I’m sorry—” Shane’s voice sounds even rougher, and his thumb digs into Ryan’s chin. “Sorry, I just—I haven’t seen you like this in _so long—”_

“Hey,” Ryan whispers, forcing his hands to move. They curl around Shane’s shoulders, which he finds are still pretty solid for whatever his age may be, and hold him upright. “It’s okay, you don’t need to apologize. I’m sorry I’m—just sitting and staring at you like an idiot. I don’t know… I don’t know what’s _happening.”_

“Yeah, no kidding,” Shane laughs, but it sounds choked and gutted, so Ryan just pulls him into a tight embrace to let Shane cry it out. It makes his stomach ache even harder, feeling and hearing Shane quietly weep against the top of his head. Ryan hates not knowing what the fuck is going on, but he hates that it’s hurting Shane like this more, more than he can bear. Shane eventually takes a few gulping breaths and leans away to meet his eyes again, uncaring of the tears on his cheeks. “How old are you?” 

“I’m 30,” Ryan replies, using one of his hands to dry Shane’s face. “I don’t know if it exists in, uh, whatever universe this is, but we just put out that episode of _Top 5 Beatdown_ we did with Rhett and Link for Watcher _.”_

Shane makes a noise that’s somewhere between another sob and a laugh. “30! Jesus H. Christ, Ryan, you’re 30 fucking years old. I can’t believe it. You’re 60 now.” 

He feels his eyes widen. “That means you’re almost 65. What the fuck is going on here, Shane?” 

“I don’t know,” Shane tells him, sounding equal parts devastated and overjoyed. “I don’t know, baby. You just won another Oscar this past year, but I don't want to spoil for what. I feel like the universe might strike me down if I do.” 

“I’ve won _more than one Oscar?”_

“This was your fifth.” 

And to this, Ryan can only think of one thing to say, one word that can encompass the hurricane of emotions swelling within him at this wild situation they’re in, a situation he’s still not convinced is not some insanely vivid dream. 

_“Shane.”_


	8. pre-haunted house shenanigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> undefined college era au where the gang make plans to go to a haunted house, cw for mentions of clowns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i haven't done one of these in hot min and this one is kinda meh because i just wanted to showcase the very beginning of a fic like i have with the last few chapters so!!! i'm fulfilling the prompt for today on time (go me) and plan on writing for some of the other prompts this weekend so look forward to some updates!!! today's prompt is: _we all have an idea list. what's the oldest idea you have? something you wrote down and then pushed to the recesses of your mind? it's time to dig her out!!!_ and for this one i'm writing the first ~1k of an au idea i've had probably since i started watching bfu back in 2018. basically, shyan and the crew (college era, it's not very specific) decide to go to an epic three story haunted house that you buy tickets for so it's a whole production & very fake but also very scary, and,,,,, chaos ensues!! it starts out good but then goes very bad very quickly. i'm sorry that this isn't spooky or anywhere close to the actual meat of the fic but i decided it'd be fun to post the gang being like "yay this is a good idea it'll be fun :)" before everything goes to shit. i hope you enjoy and can hold out for the rest!! idk when i'll post it but tbh i might wait until september/october so it can be a spooky post!!

Zach suggests it when they’re in the middle of watching  _ The Nightmare Before Christmas  _ and eating takeout in Ryan and Shane’s apartment _.  _

“That reminds me—Keith and I heard about this really awesome haunted house from Quinta,” he says, after Steven makes some comment about Jack’s haunted-looking house. “I think it’d be cool if we went after we were done eating!” 

Steven makes a face, and Ryan isn’t sure if it’s from basically being interrupted or because Zach spit a piece of noodle halfway across the room. 

“Quinta is a robot,” Eugene reminds him. “She doesn’t think anything in the entire world is scary. She’s worse than Shane.” 

“Yeah, but Quinta told me she got  _ freaked out  _ while walking through this haunted house. We  _ gotta go.”  _

Ryan feels something icy-hot twist in his stomach at this idea; it’s the sensation he always experiences when he starts talking seriously about the supernatural, any time he comes into contact with it, or whenever he convinces Shane to go on a little investigation with him in their free time. A sickly sweet combination of fear and excitement. 

“I think there was an insult in there somewhere,” Shane informs the room, orange chicken inches from his mouth. Daysha laughs, side pressing closer into Ryan’s where they’re all bunched together on one end of the couch. “Are you implying that I’m not a human being? Just because I don’t think ghosts are real?” 

Ned raises both eyebrows. “Remember when we all went to see  _ It Chapter One  _ and Jen cried and Keith hid behind Eugene and you just sat there and blankly stared at the screen?” 

“Robot.” Jen repeats softly, and then takes a dubious bite out of her egg roll. 

From where she’s sitting on the side of Shane that Ryan isn’t occupying, Sara gives Ned and Jen a squinty look. “It sounds a lot like you’re also calling  _ me  _ a robot, seeing as how I don’t believe in ghosts, either.” 

“I don’t fuck with clowns, or anyone who isn’t scared shitless by them. You’re all evil.” Keith points at Shane and Sara with his chopsticks, and then at his own eyes in an  _ I’m watching you  _ gesture. Shane gives him a mostly unimpressed look back, and Sara snorts into her noodles. 

Ryan, who has yet to say a word during the entire exchange, mulls over the idea of going to this (supposedly and allegedly) killer haunted house in between the chaos of Keith calling Shane and Sara out on being soulless and Steven throwing chopsticks at Zach’s head for spitting on him. He knows that it will probably scare the absolute fuck out of him and result in several nightmares. He also knows that it might result in one of the best nights of his life if he plays his cards right. 

“Steven, stop trying to stab me with chopsticks,” Zach says, dodging them. “If you kill me then Eugene will kill you and Andrew will kill him and everyone else will be scarred for life or in prison.” 

“I will most certainly not,” Eugene protests, but his boyfriend ignores him completely. Andrew makes a very disagreeing face that Zach elects to ignore, as well. 

_ “Anyways— _ so what do you guys think? Do you wanna go?” 

Eugene and Ned give each other a considering look, before turning back to Zach’s excited grin. 

“Sure.” 

“Yeah, sounds cool.” 

“Jen?” 

Jen bonks her head down onto Steven’s shoulder. “Do I actually have a choice?” 

“That’s the spirit! Steven?” 

“I’ll go if Jen is going.” 

“Of course you will! Andrew?” 

“I’ll go if Steven is going.” 

“Why did I even fucking ask! Sara?” 

“Of course. I’d love to watch your soul leave your body the first time some sweaty dude dressed up as Count Dracula hisses at you.” 

“Fuck you! Shane?” 

Shane laughs openly at Zach. “Absolutely. I wouldn’t miss an opportunity to watch all hell break loose between you idiots.” 

And then Zach gets to him. “Ryan? C’mon, don’t let me down, buddy.” 

The hopeful glow and the affirmations from his other friends seals the deal, and for better or for worse, Ryan tells Zach: “Sure, it sounds like a goddamn blast.”

Zach lets out a victory cheer, and only stops to ask Daysha if she’ll go, too, to complete the squad. 

“Someone’s gotta keep Bergara on his toes,” she says, and Ryan pretends to bring his chopsticks down on her knee. “His bravado will probably leave him immediately and he’ll need all the help he can get to make it through the first room." 

“Well, fuck you too,” Ryan says, but he’s laughing, and Shane makes another face as he says: “I think there was an insult in there too. Can I catch a break tonight?” 

Despite the sharp stab to his pride, and the sharp stab of knowing that Daysha is probably right, Ryan finds himself smiling up at Shane, delighted by this whole situation. Shane smiles back, and even gives him a wink when no one else is looking. 

Jen points at Shane with another half of an egg roll. “Remember when we watched that documentary on the portal to Hell in Gary, Indiana, and you laughed when Ryan freaked out so badly that Ned tried to give him CPR? That’s why Daysha has to come with us to protect him.” 

Shane hums, and then turns fully to Ryan. “They’re probably right. Daysha protects you better than I do.” 

“I don’t know why you sound surprised. If it makes you feel better, I’ll let you hold my hand when we go inside.” 

“Wow,” Shane drawls, “my fucking hero. Thanks, baby.” 

**Author's Note:**

> i really did enjoy this one, i don't think i've ever taken my shot at the coffee shop au so this was a fun rendezvous into that universe!! feel free to look into joining the shyan shipping society discord server and come talk about fic with us!!!! it's a great time!!!!!! and please feel free to drop into my [tumblr inbox](http://bodhirookes.tumblr.com/ask) to leave some short prompts i can add here as well if the mood strikes!!! :^)


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